


Game, Set, Match

by Writcraft



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Age Difference, Anal Fingering, Blow Jobs, Coming Out, Coming of Age, Far Too Much Tennis, First Time, Frottage, Gay Male Character, Getting Together, Hand Jobs, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Hung Harry Potter, M/M, Pining, Powerful Harry Potter, Rimming, Romance, Semi-Public Sex, Sexual Tension, Top Harry Potter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-07
Updated: 2019-08-07
Packaged: 2020-08-10 21:55:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20142595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Writcraft/pseuds/Writcraft
Summary: Teddy is smitten, Harry is lonely and tennis seems like a great way to avoid dealing with thisthingbetween them.





	Game, Set, Match

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheMightyFlynn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMightyFlynn/gifts).

> Thanks so much to lovely Grace for running this fabulous fest. Thanks to A for the quick SPaG check, all remaining errors are my own. Thanks to TheMightyFlynn for the great prompt: _as he gets older, Harry’s magic starts to go a little haywire. For some reason, it gets worse around Teddy._ This is a very loose interpretation of that prompt but I hope you enjoy it nevertheless.
> 
> For those concerned about the age difference tag, Teddy is 22 for the duration of this fic. In this 'verse although Harry had a brief marriage to Ginny they never had any children.

Teddy’s first thought as he arrives at Harry’s house is that nowhere on earth is as inviting as Godric’s Hollow in the summer. The second—when his key turns easily—is that Harry hasn’t changed his locks in two years, four months and fifty-six days. 

The first thing on Teddy’s mind when he arrived at Godric’s Hollow as a cheeky, excitable kid used to be _thank god he’s alive_. He would wipe his feet on the welcome mat at his Gran’s insistence, take off his shoes and pad through the hall, looking for Harry to play gobstones. Putting on his Sunday best and paying Harry a visit meant he’d returned safe and sound from fighting the good fight. The world would keep spinning and Teddy breathed a little easier just by knowing Harry was still living in it. _The Boy Who Lived._ Teddy touches his fingertips to the freshly painted sky-blue door before closing it gently behind him. He breathes in, changes the colour of his hair so it’s a shade lighter than before. Perhaps it’s Harry’s favourite colour? With hair like this Teddy might remind Harry of flying, of soaring through the sky on a hot summer day. 

The hall is dark, the dated patterned carpet of old replaced with trendy hardwood. Harry’s Quidditch boots stand to attention next to the door, the light scent of mud and grass suggesting he’s flown recently. There’s a sign on the wall that’s as new as the floors, bearing a quote Teddy doesn’t recognise. _Not everything that is faced can be changed, but nothing can be changed until it is faced._ Teddy peers closer at the name beneath the inscription. James Baldwin, whoever that is. It seems like the kind of thing that would resonate with Harry, although he’s never struck Teddy as particularly bookish. Perhaps he’s changed. Maybe they both have.

Teddy’s stomach flutters with nervous anticipation and rumbles with hunger. Once he’d taken the decision to go to Godric’s Hollow he hadn’t been able to manage his usual hearty bowl of cornflakes or his Gran’s famous marmalade on homemade granary bread. It seems no amount of distance or time has been able to dispel the nervous excitement that goes hand in hand with seeing Harry, despite Teddy’s best efforts. 

With a shaky breath, Teddy makes his way gingerly through the hall, extracting his wand and hoping there aren’t any Wrackspurts hanging about, waiting to make his brain all boozy and stupid. He’s not sure if it’s wise to just let himself into Harry Potter’s house after two years away. Harry is Head Auror, after all. He never had kids, never remarried after his short-lived union with Ginny fell apart. He probably doesn’t have visitors that let themselves in without warning. Teddy might end up hanging upside down in a jar of Cornish Pixies if he’s not careful. 

By the time he reaches the kitchen, Teddy is confident there are no booby traps waiting to stop him in his tracks. He opens his rucksack and checks the freezing charms have held over his surprise for Harry before pocketing his wand and making his way outside. The garden seems bigger than before and the hum of Harry’s magic is stronger, as comforting as a warm hug. Teddy makes his way through leafy arches to the back of the garden, where he finally sees Harry, thwacking a tennis ball against the brick wall. 

It doesn’t escape his notice that Harry is shirtless. 

“In training for Wimbledon?” Teddy asks. He’s aiming for cocky, but his voice wavers. _God I’ve missed you_. The realisation settles inside him, hot like the sun’s rays against his skin.

“Teddy?” Harry catches the ball in his hand and turns, a broad smile breaking across his face. 

His face is tanned and sun-flushed, his forehead lightly perspiring, and his chin shadowed with dark stubble. He reaches for a towel and swipes it over his face, taking a gulp of water from a nearby bottle. Teddy stares as Harry’s lips settle around the circumference of the bottle, watching the bob of his throat as he drinks. A droplet of water slides down his chin and lands on his chest. Watching its bold journey along the surface of Harry’s skin is enough to make Teddy’s body respond in all the wrong kind of ways.

“Sorry.” Harry swipes his hand across the back of his mouth, dropping his racket and ball carelessly on the grass. “It’s too bloody warm.”

“It’s okay,” Teddy croaks. He’s not entirely sure anything will ever be okay again. Not with Harry playing tennis and drinking things like that. 

“When did you get back?” Harry holds out his water bottle to Teddy, who shakes his head.

Teddy takes a breath, trying not to focus on the light sheen of sweat on Harry’s torso or the pleasing thatch of dark hair on his chest. Harry has a tattoo. A small, contented dragon that smirks as its little body rises and falls. Magical, then. Teddy suspects he would be smirking too, if he found himself etched onto Harry’s gorgeous body, just to the left of Harry’s abs. He wonders if it’s new or old. He clenches his hand into a fist, itching to touch it, wanting to trace his fingers along the V that dips beneath Harry’s low-slung joggers. His eyes settle on the trail of black hair that snakes from Harry’s belly button before disappearing down, his jogging bottoms just low enough to flash a sliver of his boxers. Teddy swallows. _Jesus fucking Christ_. He looks up, aiming for Harry’s smile instead of the generous bulge visible through the thin, burgundy joggers. _Eyes up, eyes up._

“Last week,” Teddy replies at last. “I got back last week. I thought I should sleep off the jetlag before coming over. You didn’t change the locks,” he adds, a little uselessly.

Harry’s eyebrows raise. “Should I have?”

“No.” Teddy’s laugh bursts from him and he finds himself closing the distance between them, wrapping Harry in a tight hug. They’re almost the same height and Harry smells mouth-wateringly good. Sweat, musky cologne and the faint remnants of suntan lotion. “I’d have had to ring the doorbell like everybody else. You might not have heard it, all the way out here.”

“Well.” Harry clears his throat, stepping back from Teddy after holding him close for a beat longer. His eyes sweep over Teddy quickly, his approval evident before his expression smooths back into that familiar, easy smile. “Then it’s a good job I didn’t change the locks. I wouldn’t have wanted to miss you.” He reaches out, touching his fingertips to Teddy’s hair before dropping his hand. “I like the blue.”

“Like your door.” Teddy grins at Harry, pushing a hand self-consciously through his hair. It’s not like he changed his hair just for Harry. His hair’s been blue for ages. This is just a slightly different blue. 

_I’d turn into the sun and the sky for you_. Teddy breathes out, slowly. _Did you ever think about me?_

“I’ve been doing some work to the place.” Harry’s voice pulls Teddy from his thoughts. “It keeps me busy. Work’s been slow for the last year. Too many official engagements for my liking.”

Teddy’s heart clenches, the memory of his giddy excitement over a rare day at Harry’s returning with force. _Don’t go away again. Stay for a while_. “It’s better than having to go away all the time, isn’t it?”

“I suppose” Harry doesn’t sound so sure. He nods at the wall. “I’m getting good at tennis.”

“No Quidditch?”

“That too.” Harry shrugs. “I fly all the time, but you can’t play Quidditch on your own.” 

The thought of Harry—brilliant, brave, popular Harry—needing to find a sport he can play by himself makes Teddy inexplicably sad. He should have a queue of people lining up to play tennis with him. Teddy would do it in a heartbeat. He almost volunteers, but he’s not quite ready to boldly insinuate himself into Harry’s life before they’ve even had a cup of tea.

“Don’t you have people to play with?”

“Most of my friends aren’t really into Muggle sports, apart from the football. It’s been fun, learning something different. Hermione’s dad taught me how to play and I can practice out here.”

“Maybe Wimbledon’s on the cards after all if you keep it up.”

Harry laughs and nudges his glasses onto his nose. “I’m not that good. I’d be great at a whacking a ball against a wall competition, but I don’t think they serve Pimms at those.”

“Pimms is rubbish anyway.” Teddy grins at Harry. He’d watch if Harry’s competition had a rule about being shirtless. Teddy nods towards the house, pushing his filthier thoughts to one side. “I thought there might be traps. Wrackspurts, Cornish Pixies, that sort of thing.”

Harry shakes his head. “Nope. There are wards.” He waves an airy hand, as if he isn’t one of the world’s most powerful wizards and probably has better wards than Gringotts. “An American accent won’t do much to confuse them.”

“Oi!” Teddy shoves Harry lightly. “I don’t have an accent.”

“No.” Harry’s broad smile settles into something smaller, his gaze warm, bright and fond. “You’re just like I remember, Edward.” 

For the first time in two years, four months and fifty-six days, Harry Potter calling him _Edward_ in that low, decadent tease leaves Teddy utterly breathless. His stomach flips, the giddy nerves Harry always incites returning with all the force of a precisely targeted _Stupefy_.

“Yeah,” Teddy replies, when he can manage to speak again. Harry’s just as handsome, disarming and ridiculously lovely as he’s ever been. “So are you.”

*

“Well?” Teddy releases the breath he was holding, as Harry settles back in his seat. “Do you like them?”

“Do I ever.” Harry pushes the spoon back into the first tub of ice cream. He lets out a sinful _mmm_ of contentment that sends a shock of pleasure through Teddy’s veins. Mercifully, Harry’s at least pulled on a loose white t-shirt that’s marginally less devastating than his naked torso. _Marginally_. “This pecan pie’s the best ice cream I’ve ever had.”

“It’s my favourite too.” A swell of pride leaves Teddy giddy and he lets out a whoop of happiness. His final reveal of the day hovers on the tip of his tongue, and eventually he just blurts it out. “I’ve used the nest egg Gran set aside for me to buy Florean Fortescue’s old ice cream parlour.”

After school Teddy spent several boring years working for Gringotts until he had enough money together to get an international Port-Key, a new broom and the necessary paperwork required to travel the world before settling in America for a year. He spent that year sampling every sweet, delicious treat he could find and running off the calories on vast, flat beaches or pounding the hilly roads of San Francisco. The ice cream might come as a surprise, but he’d be amazed if Harry ever expected him to go back to Gringotts. 

“You have?” Harry’s eyes widen, his approval clear. “That’s brilliant, Ted.”

“Thanks.” Teddy can’t seem to stop smiling, the excitement of being around Harry again making him daft. “It was dead cheap, because everybody thinks it’s cursed.”

Harry snorts. “A load of rot. There’s nothing wrong with the place.”

“I knew you’d agree. Seems stupid to keep it boarded up forever.” Teddy reaches for the apple pie ice cream and tucks in, the sweet, homely comfort of it instantly soothing. “I’m going to call this one The Big Apple,” he mumbles around a mouthful of ice cream. 

“Inspired by your travels?”

“Uh-huh.” Teddy nods. “I fell in love with clam chowder too, but I don’t think anyone wants that on an ice cream.” 

“Maybe not.” There’s a long pause before Harry continues. “Does this mean you’re staying for a while?” Harry’s tone is casual, but there’s something behind his words Teddy can’t quite decipher.

“Yeah. I’ve seen enough of the world for now.”

“Me too,” Harry replies, quietly. His brow furrows and he stares into the distance, lost in thought.

“It’s about time I got a proper job,” Teddy says. “Gran thinks I’ve turned into a beach bum.”

Harry laughs. “There’s nothing wrong with that. Proper jobs aren’t half overrated.”

“Don’t let Gran hear you say that.” Teddy eyes Harry, curiously. “Don’t you ever think about leaving the Ministry?”

“To do what?”

“Become a famous tennis player.” Teddy switches his ice cream with Harry’s, his cold skin tingling as their fingers brush together.

“Becoming a famous anything is the last thing I need.” Harry shakes his head, a small smile playing over his lips. “It’s just me and the wall.”

“I’ll give you a game if you find us a court,” Teddy replies. Suggesting it one glass of orange squash, hundreds of photographs and two tubs of ice cream in doesn’t feel as bold as it did earlier. “I’ve played before.”

“You have?” Harry looks so pleased Teddy’s half tempted to morph into Federer, just to keep that happy expression on his face.

“A bit.” Teddy shrugs. “A rich lady with a house in the Hamptons took a fancy to me. She taught me how to play.”

“Did she indeed?” Harry quirks an eyebrow at Teddy.

“Not like that. She was married.” Teddy flushes under Harry’s teasing gaze. “I did some work on her garden to earn a bit of cash. Her husband was away a lot. She was nice. I didn’t like lying to her, but I had to pretend I was on a gap year. Told her I had a place at Cambridge. It’s the only posh Muggle university I know.”

“I see.” Harry laughs softly. “I’m not judging you, for the record.”

“I know.” Teddy pauses, glancing at Harry. “Not really my type, though. Rich ladies. Ladies in general.”

“Oh.” A flicker of surprise crosses Harry’s features, before his expression smooths into the same, calm smile from before. “As long as you’re happy.”

“’Course.” Teddy polishes off the rest of the ice cream and sits back with a contented sigh. 

It niggles at him that Harry doesn’t say anything to Teddy like _that makes two of us_. He can’t really believe Teddy doesn’t know? He wonders if Harry’s so used to being guarded about his private life, that his instinct is to be guarded with Teddy too. The thought makes him sad and he changes the topic of conversation as quickly as he can manage. “I didn’t expect to travel the world and come back with an ice cream business, but it’s what I want to do.”

“Then you should do it. No regrets.” Harry rubs his jaw, his strange expression back. “You liked America, then?”

“America was sick,” Teddy replies, enthusiastically.

“Glad to hear it.” Harry’s lips twitch with amusement. He probably doesn’t use words like _sick_. 

“Gran thinks I’m mad, buying Fortescue’s.”

“I’ve heard madder ideas,” Harry replies. “How are you finding being back at Andromeda’s?”

“There’s a room above Fortescue’s. I’ll live there when it’s ready.” Teddy frowns. As much as he wants to spend time with his grandmother, the house seems smaller than ever, particularly with Bridge Club coming over on Wednesday’s and Friday’s. It’s only been a week, and Teddy has the distinct impression he’s already driving Gran barmy.

“There’s plenty of room here, if you want to stay until the flat’s ready,” Harry offers. 

“Really?” Teddy looks up, his heart rate quickening. “Don’t you want some peace and quiet?”

Harry laughs. “When have you ever known me to want peace and quiet?”

“Thanks.” Teddy flushes under Harry’s warm stare. He returns to contemplating the tubs of ice cream, largely to stop himself from gazing adoringly at Harry. “Do you think I should change the name of Fortescue’s? It seems weird, taking his name off the shop.”

“Did you have something else in mind?” Harry finishes the last of his ice cream and slips the spoon from his mouth. Teddy tries not to stare at his lips, wondering if his ice cream would taste even better if he was licking it from Harry’s skin. 

“Dora’s.” Teddy roots around in his pocket and pulls out a photograph of his dad, taking a bite out of his mum’s ice cream. They’re both laughing, the picture turning on a slow loop. The photograph is grainy with age with cracks on the surface webbing out from a deep crease on one side. “I wanted to make this look right again and get it blown up into a proper size so I can put it behind the bar. What do you reckon?”

Harry swallows, studying the picture closely. The room is quiet before Harry looks up, his expression soft and affectionate. “I think you should do it. I can help you with the photograph.” 

“Thanks.” Teddy watches his dad kiss his mum’s shock of pink hair and knows from the way Harry’s eyes widen momentarily that his own has shimmered and shifted in tone as it always does when he thinks about his mum. “It’s not bad to change the name?”

“No.” Harry shakes his head, his eyes sliding over Teddy’s hair then back to meet his gaze. “It’s a new start, and it’s _yours_. You could have an ice cream called the Florean or put a sign up with the history of the place for people to read if you want to pay tribute to him. It’s been closed for well over a decade. Giving it a new lease of life would honour its original owner far better than rumours of curses and people being frightened of a boarded-up shop.”

“I want to do an ice cream for dad.” Teddy frowns at the different tubs. He’s proud of them, but they’re all so American. There’s nothing that makes him think of his dad and he couldn’t find a single flavour that felt wolfy. 

“Chocolate,” Harry replies. His voice is gruff with emotion. “It should be chocolate.”

“Okay.” Teddy gives Harry a small smile, knowing the story of his dad helping Harry fight Dementors by heart by now. “I could call it Expecto Patronum?”

Harry’s jaw clenches and he nods, as if he can’t trust himself to speak.

Teddy decides to change the mood, the thought of his new business and the warmth of the summer sun demanding happier thoughts. “You’ll have to help me work off all the sugar.”

Harry raises his eyebrows, his lips curving into a slow smile. “I will?”

Teddy flushes with heat. Harry always makes him so damn nervous. He can make Teddy go from a conversation about ice cream to the filthiest thoughts in about five seconds flat with one of those looks of his. It should be illegal to be that fit _and_ that nice.

“I mean we can play tennis,” Teddy clarifies. “Obviously.”

“Obviously.” Harry holds Teddy’s gaze for another long moment, before clearing his throat. “I should—”

“Yeah. Yeah, okay.” Teddy stands, flicking his wand to put the ice cream under a freezing charm so Harry can have them later. He turns on his way out, to see Harry leaning against the kitchen counter, looking out of the window into the garden. “Harry?”

“Hmm?” Harry turns to face Teddy, folding his arms and leaning back against the kitchen counter. He has the strangest expression on his face. He looks almost…guilty.

“Did you mean what you said about letting me move in for a bit?”

“Of course.” Harry rubs his jaw, contemplating Teddy. “I wouldn’t make an offer like that if I didn’t mean it. As long as your Gran’s okay with it.”

“She will be. I think she’ll be glad to have the house back. She reckons I brought half of America back in my suitcase.”

Harry’s lips twitch. “I’m sure we’ll find room for whatever you bought.”

“I’ll get a racket,” Teddy says. “For tennis.”

“I’ll work on the court.”

Teddy realises when he’s half-way home that _I’ll work on the court_ probably means Harry’s going to build one. With magic.

He can hardly be blamed for the fact that particular bit of knowledge results in a furious wank that culminates with Harry’s name spilling from his lips. 

Bloody _Harry_.

*

Teddy discovers that Harry has nightmares on his second night in Godric’s Hollow. They’re the bad kind. The sort that leave you sweaty, shaken and dry-throated as you gasp for breath and cry out for someone to save you from the monsters.

Teddy hears Harry’s cry and dashes into his room with his wand drawn, a shaky _Lumos_ making the shadows jump and shiver against the walls.

“Just a nightmare.” Harry leans on his side, his body doubled over as he catches his breath. In the flickering light, Teddy can see beads of sweat on his skin as if he’s been running a marathon. 

“I thought someone was hurting you.” Teddy moves to the edge of the bed and perches on it, desperate to reach out to Harry but not wanting to spook him. 

“No.” Harry sits up in bed, pushing a hand through his hair. It’s damp, and dark, inky strands cling to his forehead. “No one was hurting me.” 

Teddy doesn’t believe him for a second.

“Can I get you anything?” Teddy hands Harry the glass of iced water he watched him make before saying goodnight and going to bed. The ice has melted but the glass is still cool and damp. Harry presses it to his forehead, his eyes shuttering closed as his chest rises and falls.

“Nothing. Thanks.” Harry’s voice is gruff, but steadier than before.

In the aftermath of his fear, Teddy becomes acutely aware of the fact Harry sleeps naked. The light summer sheets leave very little to the imagination, and Teddy can make out the curve of Harry’s thighs, the heavy weight of his cock between his legs and the light dusting of dark hair on his arms.

“Edward.” Harry’s voice is low and firm. _He caught you staring._

Teddy looks up, quickly and tries to fight back the heat in his cheeks. It should be easier, not blushing. It’s the kind of thing a Metamorphmagi should be able to correct with ease, but it’s very difficult to think about anything at all, sitting on Harry’s bed and listening to him call Teddy _Edward_ in that intense, intimate tone.

“I didn’t—um.” Teddy stops. His brain doesn’t work very well under the force of Harry’s dark, questioning gaze. ““I’ll, err, go back to bed then?” Teddy takes the glass from Harry and flicks his wand, murmuring a charm to cool the room. 

“Thanks.” Harry sighs, breathing out slowly. “My magic gets a bit funny. Afterwards.”

_I’d fight all your demons with my bare hands_, Teddy thinks, fiercely. He doesn’t say as much out loud, of course. Instead, he offers to make tea. Everybody loves tea.

Harry smiles, a proper one this time, warm and genuine. “No tea. I’m fine, you should go back to bed. I’ll use silencing spells tomorrow night.”

“Don’t.” Teddy shakes his head firmly. “I don’t care. When I was in New York I stayed above this bar. The music went on until four, then they chucked the bottles out at five. I do alright off a few hours’ sleep.”

“Well then.” Harry rubs his hand over his chin, watching Teddy. The sheets are rumpled, thrown casually across his body and Teddy wonders how many people have had the privilege of slipping the sheets down and taking Harry in their mouth. He envies every last one of them. “I’m sorry if I frightened you.”

“You don’t frighten me. You’ve always made me feel safe. I want to do the same for you.”

“Oh.” Harry’s eyebrows raise as he looks at Teddy carefully. “It’s nice to have company. Safety in numbers, they reckon.” His mouth tilts into a wry smile. 

“Night, Harry.” Teddy pauses in the doorway, looking back once more. “No charms. I want to know if you’re having a bad dream. I could bring chocolate. Like my dad.”

Harry’s throat works and he nods his head. “Chocolate is…always welcome.”

Teddy pads back to his room, listening as the floorboards creak and the door downstairs opens and closes quietly as if Harry’s trying not to make any noise. He gets out of bed and moves to the window, watching Harry’s shadowy body move through the garden until he disappears out of sight. 

Teddy settles in bed again and blinks at the ceiling, as the still night is punctuated by the dull _thwack_ of ball against racket, ball against wall.

*

Two weeks after moving his things to Godric’s Hollow, Teddy decides there’s definitely something wrong with Harry.

He’s clumsier than usual, for a start. Harry isn’t slick, but he’s always moved with agile confidence. As unassuming as Harry is, he clearly has no idea how imposing he can be, handsome and rugged in his Quidditch leathers or official Ministry robes. His magic always has a warm, powerful hum to it, and he can cast non-verbal, wandless spells with ease. At least that’s how it used to be. Over the course of the last week Harry’s magic has been erratic and unstable, even basic spells resulting in near disaster.

It’s odd, seeing the hero of the wizarding world cursing under his breath when a simple _Accio_ brings a bookcase toppling down, or watching him scald himself on the coffee he could make with his eyes closed in the middle of a Wronkski Feint. Even more disconcerting is the fact that Teddy seems to make everything worse. His attempt to help Harry salvage his mug of coffee caused the nearby cupboard doors to fling open violently and when he stood next to Harry last Thursday on a soup-related misadventure, the wooden spoon whirred into overdrive, sending errant drops of minestrone around the kitchen. Teddy spent ages showering peas out of his hair.

After a busy day clearing out the dust in his shop, Teddy turns the key in the lock and opens the door to Harry’s house. It must be the weird weather they’ve been having lately. That’s probably making Harry’s magic barmy. Everything gets strange just before a thunderstorm. 

“In here.” Harry’s voice travels from the kitchen into the hallway, warm and inviting. “I’m making soup.”

“Again?” Teddy winces, making his way gingerly towards the kitchen. “Is it safe to come in?”

“It is now.” Harry appears in the doorway, a tea towel slung over his shoulder and a broad grin on his face. “It’s all finished. We can reheat it later.”

“Sounds brilliant.” Teddy’s body warms at the implicit invitation they can eat supper together. It’s become something of a routine, but he still doesn’t like to assume, worried about being underfoot. He peers curiously into the kitchen, but everything seems to be in order. There’s no hint of the restless, stormy magic that’s gathers between them like electricity on muggy evenings.

“The tennis court is ready, too.” Harry looks pleased with himself, gesturing to the garden outside. “For tomorrow.”

Teddy follows Harry outside, sucking in a sharp breath when he sees the perfectly situated court taking up far more space than property boundaries should allow. It’s clearly magical, the whole space humming with it. It’s the kind of thing someone might take years to build, but Harry’s managed to create it at breakneck speed, even with wonky magic.

“Can we play now?” Teddy looks at Harry eagerly.

“If you like.” Harry seems pleased by the suggestion. He gestures to his comfortable jeans and t-shirt. “I’ll just go and change.”

“Me too.” Teddy isn’t just going to change. He’s going to _change_. He goes back into the house and takes the stairs two at a time. 

He’s got some magic of his own to show Harry.

*

The look on Harry’s face when Teddy saunters onto the tennis court after spending half an hour perfecting his best attempt at Nadal was worth the effort.

Harry hits a tennis ball lightly in Teddy’s general direction, laughing. “You’re confident.”

“You built a tennis court in a fortnight.” Teddy grins and morphs back to himself, knobbly knees and everything. “I needed something to give me the upper hand.”

“I like this better.” Harry gestures towards Teddy with his racket. 

“Because you think you can beat me like this?”

“No. Not just that.” Harry’s smile is warm, but he doesn’t elaborate further. He bounces a springy, fluorescent yellow tennis ball against the dusty surface of the court. “Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.” Teddy takes his position towards the baseline betting Harry has a killer serve. He’s a little disappointed Harry went for tennis whites instead of the topless look he clearly favours when he’s on his own, but it’s difficult to be too put out. Harry looks good in everything, and a crisp white polo shirt is no exception. “I hate it when there aren’t any rallies and people win games on serves. It’s so boring to watch.”

“Me too,” Harry agrees. He throws the ball into the air, arches his back and thwacks the ball in Teddy’s direction.

He aces it, obviously.

*

Despite Teddy’s initial fears, it turns out he and Harry are quite well matched. They both have a strong serve, but it’s not strong enough to rely upon and Harry’s first attempt wasn’t exactly par for the course. Harry is quicker around the court than Teddy, but his shots lack the same precision. They end up in long, baseline rallies and the odd spiralling lobby that lands just within the lines thanks to luck, rather than judgment. By the time they reach the third set, Teddy is two games up, on match point. They decided on three sets from the outset. Nobody wants to play five sets in this weather.

“I’m a terrible loser,” Harry says, cheerfully. “I’ll be grumpy all night.”

Teddy laughs. “Come on, don’t be a wanker. Just hurry up and serve, so I can win.”

Laughing, Harry does just that. It’s not quite as strong as some of his other attempts and Teddy returns the ball easily, sending it to the farthest corner of the court. Harry races across the clay and stretches out his racket, but it barely scuffs the tennis ball.

“Bugger.” Harry watches the ball bounce across the court and sighs. “I’m an old man, my tennis skills aren’t what they used to be.”

“You’ve only just started playing,” Teddy scoffs. “Old man my arse.”

“That was fun.” Harry picks up the stray tennis balls and puts them away, crossing from his side of the court to Teddy’s. “You’re good.”

“I know.” Teddy holds his breath as Harry reaches out a hand, rubbing his thumb against Teddy’s cheek. 

“Dust.” Harry pulls his hand back quickly, clearing his throat.

“Because you made a clay court.” Teddy helps Harry find the last of the balls and stretches his aching limbs. He drinks half of his water before yanking off his t-shirt and tipping the bottle of water over his head, shaking the droplets from his hair. “I thought you’d go for grass.”

“I’ve never played on clay.” Harry seems to be struggling with something, his eyes flicking over Teddy’s body and settling on his damp tennis shorts. “I thought it looked cool.”

“It’s probably why you lost.” Teddy shoots Harry a grin. “That, and the arthritis.”

“Hmm.” Harry’s still looking down, eventually dragging his gaze slowly up, tracing the full length of Teddy’s torso. The intensity behind his open stare sends a shiver of pleasure down Teddy’s spine, Harry’s eyes traveling like fingertips over his skin. “My backhand’s shit.”

“I can show you a two-handed backhand, if you want. Pass on some of Lady V’s tips.”

Harry raises his eyebrows. “She wasn’t called Lady V.”

“Nope. It was just a joke between us.” Teddy ushers Harry out of the court towards the garden wall, grabbing a couple of balls. “Still didn’t get up to any funny business, before you ask.”

“I wasn’t planning on it.” Harry drops his wand onto the grass and spins the racket in his hand. “I’m sure she was too old for you, anyway.”

“Hardly.” Teddy glances at Harry. “I like the idea of someone who’s had experience. It might have been different, if it wasn’t for the lady part.”

Harry makes a non-committal sound, but his cheeks flush. “Come on, then. Show me these tricks of yours.”

“It’s the way you’re holding the racket.” Teddy stands next to Harry, sliding his hands over Harry’s and moving them into position. Harry’s not particularly tall or thick and muscular, but his hands are large, warm and firm. Teddy clears his throat, trying to focus on the task at hand instead of the fantasies Harry’s hands elicit. “When you hit the ball you need to transfer your weight forward and follow through.” He demonstrates as best he can, watching as Harry copies his movements. “No, it’s like—”

He breaks off, shifting behind Harry to help him adjust to the right swing. It becomes blindingly obvious after less than a minute that standing this close to Harry is possibly the worst move Teddy could have made. For one, Harry smells _brilliant_. His skin is hot from the heat of the sun, and his body has a sweaty, masculine scent that makes Teddy think of other physical activities they could be enjoying together. Harry’s skin is so warm to the touch, his body so tight and primed for action. Teddy just wants to feel the fingers wrapped around the racket’s handle sliding over his skin. He imagines what it would be like to kiss Harry after a long, vigorous game of tennis. His lips would taste of sweat and salt. Teddy would drop to his knees onto the dusty clay, bringing Harry to the edge with his mouth.

_Fuck_. Teddy’s cock hardens and he’s so close he’s sure Harry must feel it. The hitch in Harry’s breath and the way he leans almost imperceptibly back against Teddy makes everything a thousand times worse. Teddy’s hands are sweaty and slick on Harry’s skin and because he knows his shorts won’t hide anything, he tries to get his traitorous body to relax before Harry sees the tenting in his loose shorts. He’s a Metamorphmagi. He was Nadal a few hours ago. Despite his best attempts, however, his body doesn’t seem to want to respond. Being horny does nothing for any kind of body modification.

“Teddy?” Harry sounds slightly breathless and Teddy moves back quickly, stumbling a little. 

“Sorry, the sun got in my eyes.” Teddy knows he sounds breathless too, his voice wavering. His excuse is particularly shit, the sun currently hidden behind a rogue cloud. 

“Huh. Right.” Harry’s cheeks look even more flushed than before and he gestures to the house. “I’ll just get—more water.” 

Teddy watches Harry make a quick path to the house, his heart hammering in his chest.

Teddy only saw a glimpse of Harry’s body before he practically sprinted off, but it was enough. Harry was _hard_. Teddy runs his tongue over his dry lips and stares at the now empty garden, frozen in place. 

Something clatters inside the house—a sure sign that Harry’s magic has gone mad again—but Teddy’s mind is spinning too quickly to dash inside. The image of Harry’s confused expression is seared onto his brain, and the same thought keeps rolling around, again, and again.

_Harry was hard too_.

*

“Ron’s coming over to collect some files.” Harry seems thoroughly relaxed. The near miss the other day has clearly been consigned to the box of _things we don’t talk about_ along with Harry’s sexuality and the things that haunt his dreams on a particularly humid night. “I refuse to look at anything Ministry related when I’m on holiday.”

“I don’t blame you.” Teddy follows Harry into the living room, taking a seat in his usual spot on the sofa. “Have you decided where you’re going?”

“Nowhere.” Harry flicks his wand and two beers barrel into the living room at a quicker pace than usual. He winces, putting his wand down gingerly as if it can’t be trusted. He roots in his pocket and extracts his keys, opening his beer with the keyring, clearly deciding it’s wise not to attempt more magic with a glass bottle in his hand. He throws the keys in Teddy’s direction and he catches them deftly. “I might fly out to the sea for a day or two. This weather’s doing my head in.”

The Floo whooshes and Ron steps through, coughing. He rights himself, glancing at Teddy and giving Harry a curious look that Teddy can’t quite decipher. 

“Beer?” Harry gets to his feet and claps Ron on the back. 

“No, mate. I can’t stay. Hermione’s parents are over, and they think I’m trying to avoid them as it is.” Ron pulls a face. “Alright, Teddy?”

“Brilliant, thanks. We’ve been playing tennis.”

“Tennis, eh?” Ron raises his eyebrows at Harry, which earns him a glare in response. 

Harry makes his way out of the living room, calling after him. “You’ll need to ask Hermione about the Whitby case. She had some thoughts.”

“Doesn’t she always?” Ron takes Harry’s recently vacated seat, picking up a nearby paper and flicking through it. “Harry didn’t mention you’d be over. It’s good to see you again.”

“You too.” Heat rises in Teddy’s cheeks. “He didn’t mention I was living here for a bit?”

Ron puts his paper to one side and gives Teddy a thoughtful look. “No, he didn’t mention.”

“I was driving Gran mad,” Teddy replies, quickly. It seems important to have a reason for being here, with Harry. 

“Families can do that, sometimes.” Ron gives Teddy a quick smile. “I’m sure she’s glad to have you closer to home though, and I bet Harry appreciates the company. He’s doesn’t like an empty house. It’s why he usually spends so much time away from it, when he can.”

“It’s only until Fortescue’s is ready,” Teddy says. There’s something about the way Ron’s looking at him that makes him wonder if his feelings for Harry are written all over his face. Unfortunately _try not to look like you want to shag your godfather_ isn’t in the Metamorphmagi handbook. 

“It’ll be nice to see Florean’s place up and running again.” Ron shudders. “I never liked seeing it boarded up.”

“They used to say it was cursed when I was at school.” Teddy pulls a face. “It didn’t seem right, leaving it to gather dust, reminding people of You-Know-Who.”

“Not scared of anything, are you?” Ron gives Teddy a broad smile. “Just like Harry. You were always the first to have a go on the brooms or try out George’s new stuff.”

“Yeah.” Teddy smiles at the memory. 

When he was younger and Harry and Ginny were still together, the Weasleys practically lived at Harry’s place. In those days Ron and Hermione were _Uncle Ron_ and _Aunt Hermione_ and the Weasleys, Potters, Teddy and Gran formed one big, boisterous group. The break-up of Harry’s marriage shortly after it began led to a stormy period of estrangement. By the time things sorted themselves out, Teddy was at Hogwarts making his own friends. His time at Harry’s was limited to the fleeting days when Harry was back in England for long enough to play gobstones and teach Teddy how to fly. 

“It was a long time ago,” Ron says, quietly. “You’re not a kid anymore.”

“No.” Something squirms in Teddy’s stomach and the strange flutter of desire creeps through him as he thinks of Harry’s warm smile and the erratic bursts of his magic. “I’m twenty-two.”

“Practically ancient.” Ron winks.

Teddy glances at the open door, making sure Harry’s still well out of earshot before lowering his voice. “Do you reckon Harry’s okay?”

“’Course he is.” Ron frowns. “What makes you think he’s not?”

“His magic’s been weird.” Teddy glances at the open door again, speaking quickly. “It’s gone haywire. He nearly buried me under a pile of books the other day and he can’t even stir soup properly without making something explode.”

“I’d say he just needs to have some fun on holiday.” Ron chuckles under his breath. “He’s been spending too much time on politics and paperwork. No fights, no anything. You know what Harry’s like. Restless, always wanting to do something active. That’s what the tennis is all about, I bet. He hasn’t been out with anyone in donkeys. Not since that wizard from accounts, Michael something-or-other. Total snooze.”

Teddy stares at Ron, his mouth dry. It’s the first time anyone’s mentioned Harry with another wizard to him, and the casual ease of Ron’s tone makes him wonder why Harry never, ever says _anything_ about being gay. He mulls over Ron’s words, swallowing thickly because _surely_ the answer to Harry’s off-kilter magic isn’t as basic as getting laid? If Teddy had known, he would have gladly offered his services instead of running around chasing a tennis ball like a twat. 

“Are you saying his magic’s weird because he’s horny?” Teddy tries not to sound too eager about the possibility.

“No!” Ron’s cheeks get pink. “I didn’t say that. Did I?”

“What are you two whispering about?” Harry returns with a pile of papers. Ron gets to his feet quickly and takes them out of Harry’s hands, shrinking them down to put them in his pocket. 

“Nothing, mate. Just the weather.” Ron gives Teddy a quick look. “Isn’t that right?”

“Yeah.” Teddy’s whole body is hot, and it has nothing to do with the heat outside. “Just the weather.”

Ron says his goodbyes and Teddy sips his beer, lost in thought. 

“I’m going to go outside for a while.” Harry stretches, his t-shirt lifting above his shorts and revealing a tantalising sliver of flesh. “Blow off some steam.”

Teddy nearly chokes on his beer, putting it unsteadily on the table. “I’ll give you a game of tennis.” _Something else too, if you fancy_. Teddy rolls his eyes at his own cheesiness. Don’t they always play tennis in old pornos? He’s starting to realise why. 

Harry frowns at Teddy’s beer. “We can’t play tennis if you’ve been drinking.”

“Half a beer, Harry. No more than you.” Teddy flashes Harry his most disarming smile. “Unless you’re scared of losing again?”

Harry responds with a _humph_ and goes to get his racket.

*

They’re as well matched as the previous times, and the game is well into the third set before Teddy asks if they can stop for a breather. It’s not that he can’t keep playing, but Ron’s words keep whirring around in his brain and if Harry’s dodgy magic is anything to go by, no amount of tennis is going to help matters.

“We need oranges,” Teddy decides. “Oranges and more water.”

Harry extracts his wand, but Teddy stills his hand before he accidentally Summons half the contents of Godric’s Hollow.

“I’ll do it,” Teddy says, quickly. 

Harry drains the last of his water and frowns at Teddy. “I’m perfectly capable of casting a simple _Accio_.”

“Not when you need a shag, apparently,” Teddy replies. 

_Fuck_. It’s not like he meant to say it but playing tennis with a fit-as-fuck Harry makes him slightly delirious. Perhaps he shouldn’t have had that half beer after all.

Harry chokes on his water, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and staring at Teddy.

“_What_?” Harry glares in the direction of the house, as if Ron’s still somewhere inside. “I’m going to give Ron such a bollocking when I next see him,” he mutters.

“He didn’t say anything, not really. I read between the lines.” Teddy gives Harry a sheepish grin. “Was he wrong?”

“Of course he was wrong.” Harry points his water bottle in Teddy’s direction. “I’m not talking about this with you.”

“Why not?” Teddy asks, disgruntled. “You don’t talk about any of it, with me. It’s like you’re ashamed of it. Should _I_ be ashamed?”

Harry jaw works, his eyes dark as he contemplates Teddy. “No,” he responds, tightly. “Of course not.”

“Then why do you never say anything about men or other wizards like Michael from accounts.” Teddy snorts, inexplicably jealous of Michael, the boring arse. “I’m not a dickhead, Harry. I know you’re gay. I’ve known for years.”

“It’s inappropriate to talk about those things with you. You’re my godson…” Harry trails off, the falsity of the prim and proper approach clearly apparent to his own ears, as well as Teddy’s.

“So?” Teddy rolls his eyes. “We’re not related, you didn’t raise me. You were off fighting evil-doers on another continent half the time. I might be a bit younger—”

“—A lot younger—”

“—Not young enough for you to worry about. Not nearly, not for a long while.” Teddy moves closer to Harry, his heart hammering wildly in his chest. “I’m a proprietor.”

“Oh.” Harry looks like he’s trying to mask a smile, his expression caught somewhere between amusement, confusion and something else that sends a happy shiver of pleasure through Teddy’s body. “Well, if you’re a _proprietor_…”

“I’ve seen the world,” Teddy continues, boldly. “I’ve met all sorts of people and not one of them were a patch on you.”

“That’s because you were spending time with married ladies with expensive houses in the Hamptons,” Harry murmurs. Teddy doesn’t miss the way his gaze lingers for a beat too long on Teddy’s lips.

“I came out to you.” Teddy’s voice wavers, a flush of anger spreading through him. “I came out to you, and you couldn’t even say _me too_?”

Shock flickers across Harry’s face, and he swallows, thickly. “I didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable around me.”

“I’d have been less uncomfortable if you hadn’t made me feel like it’s something people don’t talk about,” Teddy mutters. He steadies his voice, his breathing jagged. “Now your magic’s all weird because you want a shag or whatever the fuck and you can’t even tell me that, because I’m always going to be a kid to you, aren’t I?”

“No, you’re not.” Harry gives Teddy a soft smile that chases away Teddy’s anger like a cool breeze. “You brought me chocolate.”

“That’s right, I did.” Teddy frowns and scuffs the toe of his trainer against the clay. Night four. Another nightmare. This time, Teddy was prepared, and he refused to leave until Harry settled into a calm, dreamless sleep. If he stayed a while longer to watch Harry, well. It’s not _that_ creepy. 

Harry picks up his wand before trailing off with a sigh. “Will you?” 

Teddy nods, staring at Harry’s offered wand. There’s something so intimate about using somebody else’s wand. It’s Harry. Harry, who has conquered Dark Lords and countless other demons and monsters with that wand. It’s a big thing, to be trusted with it. He takes the wand carefully, folding his fingers around it. The powerful hum of Harry’s magic envelops him in a rush, and it feels so _good_ against Teddy’s skin. Holding Harry’s wand is better than all the rubbish kisses he’s had, all the furtive wanks, the not-quite-ready-for-sex moments when he pushed away fit boys who couldn’t settle the itch beneath his skin. Teddy’s prick hardens in his shorts and the sheer force of his desire takes him by surprise. It’s not even like they’re doing _anything_. It’s not a kiss, not a brush of Harry’s fingers against his cock, not even a warm hug. It’s just holding Harry’s wand in his hand and Teddy’s already getting hard.

“Try _Accio Teddy’s postcards_,” Harry murmurs. He runs his tongue over his lips, his gaze dropping down. His voice deepens as he lifts his gaze to meet Teddy’s eyes once more. “Try that.”

“Okay.” With a shaky hand, Teddy casts the spell and a cardboard box makes its way across the garden, hovering next to them both and then dropping to the dusty, tennis court floor. He drops to his knees, Harry’s wand clattering beside him. He opens the box and sucks in a breath, the familiar sight of San Francisco’s Golden Gate Bridge facing him as he strokes his fingers over the bundle of cards.

“You never replied.” Teddy’s voice is tight. “I know I said not to, because I’d be moving around, but you _never replied_. Only on birthdays, and Christmas.”

“I suspected,” Harry says, at last. He doesn’t have to elaborate. They both remember the moment Teddy had one beer too many before he went on his travels. That evening he pressed close to Harry before being gently held at a distance. _Flushed, nineteen, looking up at Harry like you wanted to kiss him. God, you wanted to kiss him._ “I wanted you to find your own way, without any distractions,” Harry continues.

Teddy swallows. Next to the pile of postcards there’s a picture of Harry, Ron and Hermione, around the age Teddy is now. Harry looks so young, so fierce. Like he wants to take on the world and never, ever stop. Hermione and Ron are laughing with their arms wrapped around one another and Harry’s just close enough to be part of the group, but there’s a gulf between them, his eyes stormy, his smile just a shade too bright. It makes Teddy’s heart ache, his fingers sliding over Harry’s face, his smile, his hair. 

“I wanted to find my own way too.” Teddy looks up, meeting Harry’s gaze. “Look where I ended up. All those countries, all those brilliant places. They’re daft for ice cream in America. I could have made a fortune but here I am in Godric’s Hollow, playing tennis with you like a knobhead.”

Harry laughs, the sound rich and warm. As the laughter fades away, his expression turns unusually serious and his jaw clenches. The silence stretches between them, until eventually Harry speaks.

“I’m glad you’re home,” Harry says. His voice is gruff. 

Teddy stands, brushing dust off his knees. “Is it true about the magic?”

Harry winces and clears his throat. “Not exactly…”

“A fuck or a fight, isn’t it?” Teddy moves closer to Harry, breathing him in. Even sweat smells good on Harry. So _fucking_ good. “It’ll help.”

“There’s been some activity in Poland,” Harry offers. It would sound conversational, if not for the way he runs his tongue over his lips, or the rough cadence to his voice. “Dawlish found a cursed locket in Bolivia.”

“Pity you’re on holiday,” Teddy replies. He presses closer to Harry until they fall against the wire walls of the tennis court. Even though he knows from the look in Harry’s eyes he’s about two seconds of restraint away from fucking Teddy into the sandy court, he’s still surprised by the growing hardness against his leg, the swell of Harry leaving him breathless. “I think you should try fucking, first. No one’s going to take kindly to you pestering them when you’re supposed to be off duty.”

“Edward…” Harry’s voice contains the note of a warning, but it falters, as his magic hums and pulses around them. Teddy pushes his fingers into the wire fence and presses closer to Harry, watching the way his eyes shutter closed.

“Do you know how hard it makes me when you call me that?” Teddy leans in boldly, brushing his lips lightly against the line of Harry’s jaw. “You the only one. The only one that ever has.”

“_Teddy_,” Harry tries again, his voice wavering.

“Don’t be so bloody noble,” Teddy whispers. “There’s nothing wrong. Nothing wrong with this. Would it help if I start it?” 

“I think you already have,” Harry replies. His eyes are still firmly shut, and Teddy needs him to open them, needs him to see. _Look at me. Know it’s me. Want it to be me._

“Have I?” Teddy lets out a short laugh. “I don’t really know what I’m doing.”

Harry’s eyes open, at last. He moves his fingers over Teddy’s jaw, his gaze focused on Teddy’s lips with an intensity that leaves Teddy breathless. “You’ve been away…”

“Not everyone needs to shag around just to stabalise their magic.” Teddy’s cheeks heat, and he can’t even be bothered to hide it. “It doesn’t mean I’m not ready for it.”

“No.” Harry turns them so Teddy’s back falls against the wire fence of the court with a bounce. “I suppose not.”

“_You_ know what you’re doing though, don’t you?” Teddy’s voice is low and jagged. “It’s so fucking hot. You’re so hot.”

“I think you’re confusing me with the weather.” Harry grins, nevertheless. He presses close to Teddy, bringing his lips to Teddy’s ear and brushing them lightly over the shell of it. Who knew that a simple kiss against his ear could feel so good? Teddy thinks he might burst out of his skin. “And yes,” Harry replies, low, filthy and confident. “I do know what I’m doing.”

_Holy shit._ Teddy wants to reply with something snappy like _smug bastard_ but all coherent words are chased away when Harry slides his hand around the back of Teddy’s neck and kisses him. Teddy’s been kissed before, but he realises with dizzying speed he’s never been kissed quite like this. Harry is confident and kisses with force, his lips warm and searching against Teddy’s. Their bodies are sweaty, their mouths and tongues hot and slick against one another. It should be too muggy to be this close to another person, but there’s no way Teddy’s going to pull back now, with Harry’s kisses making his body pulse with desire. Teddy pushes his hands under Harry’s tennis shirt, pressing his fingers into Harry’s back. He wants to be as close as possible, despite the weather, despite the fact they’re in the middle of the garden, despite the fact his stomach is twisting with nerves. 

“You can fuck me if you want.” Teddy buries his face in Harry’s neck and breathes him in. “Out here, on the court. I’ll get on my hands and knees, or we could do it another way.” He’s not entirely sure what way that might be exactly, but he’s sure he can work it out. He slides his hands from Harry’s back, pushing up his t-shirt and running knuckles lightly over Harry’s stomach, watching his muscles clench under the touch. “Do you want to?”

“I had something else in mind.” Harry pulls back from Teddy and picks up his wand. He slides it into Teddy’s hand, covering Teddy’s hand with his own and moving behind him. He’s hard against Teddy’s backside and _fuck_ he’s big. Teddy bites back a whimper, pressing back into Harry.

“You feel—” Teddy’s words trip and stumble, too turned on to articulate himself properly. Commenting on the size of Harry’s dick seems like a bad line, somehow. He also doesn’t want Harry to think he’s scared. He’s sure he can make changes to his body to accommodate Harry, even if his morphing abilities suck when he’s horny.

“Can you cast a spell for me?” Harry might as well be circling his hand around Teddy’s cock the way his large fingers feel surrounding Teddy’s hand, the cool wood of Harry’s wand nestled inside Teddy’s fist. “Cushioning charm.”

“Uh-huh.” Teddy closes his eyes, breathes and then focuses on the spell. It’s basic magic, but even that is difficult with Harry so close. He grins when he manages the spell successfully and he drops onto the ground which now has all the softness of a bed. “Don’t you have neighbours?”

“None that can see this tennis court.” Harry yanks off his t-shirt and kicks off his trainers, pulling off his socks. He kneels between Teddy’s feet and tugs off his trainers and socks too, before moving up Teddy’s body, pushing his t-shirt up at the base. “Off.”

“Yes, Sir.” Teddy means to tease, but the words make Harry’s eyes darken and just saying them out loud sends an unexpected jolt of pleasure straight to Teddy’s cock. Biting back a curse he yanks off his t-shirt and lets himself be pushed back against the well-cushioned floor. 

Teddy was half expecting Harry to get straight to the fucking, but he doesn’t. Instead he kisses Teddy so thoroughly, it’s a good job they’re both lying down. Teddy’s not sure he would have been able to stand with Harry kissing him like this. He moans into Harry’s mouth, the press of flesh against flesh making him push up against Harry in a desperate plea for more contact. Harry slides his hands underneath Teddy’s bum, pushing back against him, seeking friction against the thick, hot line of his own erection. They kiss like that for a while, grinding into one another, before Harry reaches between them. The barrier of the last of their clothes disappears and Harry uses a slick hand to bring both of their cocks together, sliding his fingers over them with a grunt of pleasure.

“_Ah_! F-f-fuck.” Teddy places his palms flat on the clay court and arches into Harry. “You…did magic.”

“It’s not completely fucked.” Harry sounds like he’s smiling, trailing kisses along Teddy’s jaw. He moves his hand again, leaving Teddy gasping with pleasure. “I just like how it feels when you do magic with my wand.”

“How does it feel?” Teddy opens his eyes, staring at Harry. He never imagined it might feel good for Harry too.

“Why don’t I show you?” Harry murmurs. He brings their cocks together again and Teddy falls back on the cushioned surface of the court, writhing and grinding helplessly as Harry seems to know just what to do to keep Teddy right on the cusp of climax, nudging him a little closer to the edge with every curl of his hand around Teddy’s cock and slide of their bodies together.

Just when Teddy is about to plead for _more, harder_, Harry pulls back completely. Teddy’s chest heaves and he looks down at his cock, slick, aching and so, so hard, curved against his belly. Before he can properly take in the full, glorious sight of Harry’s body, in one swift movement he makes his way lower and sucks Teddy deep into the back of his throat. Teddy shoves his hands into Harry’s hair. It takes less than a minute before he comes with a loud cry, a sharp, intense burst of heat leaving him pulsing into Harry’s talented mouth. 

Teddy needs a minute. Just a minute for a floor to stop spinning beneath him. He flexes his fingers and blinks his eyes open, meeting Harry’s amused gaze. Harry is still starkers, kneeling up between Teddy’s legs, entirely unabashed by his own nakedness. Teddy’s gaze falls between Harry’s legs and he gulps. There’s not a comical difference between them in the junk department, but Harry is definitely longer, thicker and mouth-wateringly delicious. He’s got the kind of prick Teddy spent countless furious wanks dreaming about. That’s not to say the idea of taking it inside him doesn’t make him nervous, but the thrum of excitement that passes through him outweighs any worry. 

“You haven’t come,” Teddy points out. His cock twitches, despite having already come once. “I want to help.”

Harry raises an eyebrow. “I certainly hope helping me with my magic isn’t the only reason you’re doing this.”

“What do you think?” Teddy rolls his eyes and pushes himself up to eye-level with Harry. “No.” He kisses Harry, firm and insistent. “_No_.”

“Good,” Harry murmurs against Teddy’s lips. He takes Teddy’s hand and moves it down his body. Taking the hint, Teddy circles Harry’s gorgeous cock with his fingers. It’s still slick from earlier, unless Harry’s cast a new lubricating spell, which is perfectly possible. Having Harry guide him feels like it did when Teddy used Harry’s wand. Magic thrums around them, Harry’s breathing getting more ragged as he captures Teddy’s lips in a fierce, messy kiss. 

Just like that, Teddy brings Harry to orgasm, on his knees in the middle of a tennis court.

It’s not quite how he imagined things would go, but it’s close enough.

*

That night an unexpected thunderstorm breaks the cloying heat, and the air is fresh and cool. They eat supper together in comfortable silence before taking beers into the living room. They don’t talk about what happened earlier, don’t make plans for _tomorrow_ or even for _later_, yet the balance has shifted between them. Harry doesn’t seem skittish as Teddy worried he might be in the aftermath, full of recrimination and regret. Instead, he seems happy and relaxed, his magic already settling into a comfortable, powerful hum. Teddy can’t take his eyes off him.

The heat of Harry’s magic gathers around them, and Teddy drinks in the sight of him. He’s so handsome. So _lovely_. Teddy can’t believe the way his heart thrums and skips for Harry. In his forties, Harry has the assured confidence of a man who’s finally found his way, someone who carved his place in the world despite all the adversity he’s faced doing so. In his navy knitted jumper and light blue jeans he looks so comfortable in his own skin. His easy smile and thick shock of dark hair, peppered with a little grey at the temples, are so pleasing to Teddy. His hands are broad and strong, the fingers of his right hand tapping against his knee and his other curled around his bottle of beer. Teddy’s mouth gets dry at the thought of those hands on his body. _Your hand was on my cock this afternoon_. He swallows.

“Everything okay?” Harry takes a sip of his beer, watching Teddy closely.

“I think I understand this wonky magic thing.” Teddy gulps his beer, before putting it down, wiping his clammy palms on his trousers. “Mine feels a bit unstable at the minute, too.”

Harry’s gaze takes on a different kind of heat. He stands, leaving his beer on the side. He moves to the sofa and sinks to his knees between Teddy’s parted legs. He looks up and runs his knuckles along the line of Teddy’s hardening cock, pushing against the thick denim of his jeans. Harry Potter on his knees, looking up at Teddy with an expression that’s both fiery and fond is the most devastating thing Teddy has ever witnessed. 

“You were worried, earlier,” Harry comments. His voice has a soft, patient note to it, his fingers settling on the buckle of Teddy’s belt. “Talk to me.”

“I—” Teddy sucks in a breath as Harry slowly slides the belt through the buckle, his hands brushing Teddy’s now aching cock in the process. “You’re quite, um. Endowed. I’m not very good at changing my body when I’m turned on.”

Harry frowns and stills his movements. “Why would you change your body? I don’t want you to do that.”

“To, err.” Teddy licks his dry lips, searching for the right words. “Accommodate you.”

“Oh.” Harry’s eyebrows shoot up and he looks faintly amused, but fortunately doesn’t laugh. “I appreciate the compliment, but I promise I haven’t had any issues before. I’m happy to do things the other way too, if you prefer.” He continues making quick work of Teddy’s belt and the button on his jeans, lowering the zip with slow purpose. “We’re in no rush, in any event.” He looks up, a rare moment of vulnerability etched on his face. 

“No.” Teddy brushes his hand through Harry’s hair, smoothing it back and touching his fingers lightly against his scar. _I can’t believe I get to touch you. I never want to stop._ “No rush at all.”

“Well then. Maybe we can stick to the things that don’t make you nervous, for now.” With a quick smile, Harry moves his mouth over Teddy, chasing all other words away.

It’s even better than the first time.

*

Teddy wakes slowly in the early hours of the morning, to find Harry on his feet looking out of the window. Teddy props himself up on his elbow, taking in the curve of Harry’s beautiful arse and the light definition of the muscles on his back. He does sleep naked, after all. Teddy discovered that when he slipped into bed beside Harry just after midnight, unable to sleep in his own room with the knowledge that Harry was just down the hall.

His jaw still aches a little from his first blow job, and the pleasant memory of it makes him shiver. Harry stretched out on the sofa after bringing Teddy to a bone-shaking climax. He looked so trusting, so _good_. He helped Teddy work out what the things Harry likes best, keeping him tethered with gentle words and the soft touch of his fingers against Teddy’s chin. Teddy’s sure it was sloppy and uncoordinated, but Harry didn’t seem to mind. He came with a grunt, his large hand twisted in Teddy’s hair and his eyes glazed. Teddy runs his tongue over his lips remembering the sharp, tangy taste of it, the saltiness of Harry’s perspiration on his tongue, the soapiness of his skin, the musky scent of his armpits and between his thighs.

“I couldn’t sleep.” Teddy hopes Harry doesn’t mind him sneaking into his bed. He didn’t seem to mind when he rolled over and threw an arm across Teddy, but he also wasn’t fully awake. He mumbled something about unicorns and Rita Skeeter being a tit. 

“Neither can I.” Harry turns, his back to the window. His face is shadow and light, the silvery moon casting a strange glow over his skin. “It’s too hot again. We need another thunderstorm.”

“Too hot to share a bed?” Teddy tries to sound casual but isn’t sure he manages it.

“No.” Harry gives Teddy a smile. “Not too hot for that. I like you being here.”

“I’m glad.” Teddy drags his gaze from the heavy weight between Harry’s legs. He lets himself take in the shape of Harry’s thighs, the definition of his torso and the fluttering wings of the little dragon tattoo. “I like your tattoo.”

“Oh.” Harry laughs and strokes his fingers over it. It arches and puffs out smoke. It looks like it’s purring. Teddy can relate. He thinks he might purr too, with Harry’s fingers stroking over his skin. “Thanks. Never tickle a sleeping dragon. The Hogwarts motto. I always felt at home there.”

“What about here?” Teddy asks.

Harry runs his tongue over his lips and studies Teddy. “It’s getting there.”

Teddy replies by lifting the sheets, revealing his own nakedness and growing arousal to Harry’s gaze. Harry returns to bed swiftly, crossing the room with a purposeful stride that gets Teddy even harder. They fall together in a heated tangle of limbs, kissing and rubbing their bodies against one another as they roll over the rumpled covers. Teddy isn’t sure if it’s the heat of the night or the heat of Harry’s tongue sliding against his own that makes him want with such unstoppable force. There’s an urgency in their shared, hot breath, long, searching open-mouthed kisses and the way Harry slides a hand along Teddy’s arm, up to his wrist. Being pinned against the bed while Harry Potter kisses him is definitely one of Teddy’s new favourite things. When Harry slides his hands down to Teddy’s backside, the squeeze of his fingers into flesh makes Teddy’s breath catch.

“_Please_.” Teddy isn’t sure what he’s asking for. Nerves still roll in his stomach at the thought of taking Harry inside him, but he knows he wants _more_ and he trusts Harry. He trusts him more than he’s ever trusted anyone in his life before.

With an easy flick of his wand—Teddy’s rather proud his fucking abilities seem to have got Harry’s magic back on track—Harry Summons a small, glass pot with translucent liquid inside.

“Just my fingers,” Harry murmurs, against Teddy’s flushed cheek. “Just my fingers for now.”

If anyone had told Teddy Harry Potter saying the word _fingers_ could be so erotic, he would have called them mad. Yet there’s something so hot about the promise, with the knowledge of the pleasure Harry’s mouth and hands have wrung from him already, that leaves Teddy arching and dropping his legs open with a needy moan.

Harry carefully slicks his fingers. Watching him do so is better than any porn. It leaves Teddy grasping for him, pleas falling from his lips. Harry looks so good, so damn enticing. His magic bathes the room like moonlight, gathering them both close. The raw, unassuming power of Harry in these moments leaves Teddy breathless. He didn’t think he’d ever get to see Harry come undone and it’s a privilege to witness. Being under the full force of his open, hungry gaze is desperately good. _You make me feel so safe_. Teddy meets Harry’s eyes, so green and bright as he watches Teddy. He’s a brilliant contrast of firm and tender, holding Teddy in place, carefully tuned to Teddy’s expressions to check for any sign of discomfort. 

Harry gets Teddy into an accessible position and spends some time getting him comfortable with being touched _there_, moving his finger over Teddy’s clenching hole and mouthing at Teddy’s balls. By the time Teddy’s cock is leaking at the tip, hard and flushed, he’s agitated enough that he nearly knees Harry in the face. 

With a soft smile Harry finally—_finally_—presses the tip of his finger past the resistant ring of muscle and pushes it slowly inside Teddy. The slide of Harry’s finger is eased by plenty of lubricant, but it’s a strange sensation and one Teddy isn’t sure he likes. There’s something so invasive about it, an edge of discomfort making him suck in a sharp breath. Harry frowns, gentling Teddy by using his free hand to give Teddy’s cock a slow, slick stroke. He slips his finger back past the first knuckle then pushes gently inside again and _oh_, that’s better already. What seemed so strange on the first push inside now responds to the need that leaves Teddy aching, his body already relaxing around Harry’s finger. The pleasure is more intense than being blown or fucking his prick into Harry’s fist. It’s _good_, Teddy realises. Better than good. Pleasure spikes within him as he lets his legs fall further open, closing his eyes as he breathes through it.

Teddy gets used to the slow movement of Harry’s finger, finding himself shushed when he reaches for Harry, conscious it’s all one-sided. Harry seems to like doing this, if the darkness in his eyes and the warmth of his expression is anything to go by. As he adjusts to the sensation of being filled, Teddy decides he want more. He wants Harry to push inside him, to fuck him with those strong hands of his, to go as deep as he can. With a soft moan, Teddy pushes Harry back and then turns himself around, arse up in invitation. He’s sure every part of him is blushing at the brazen request, but he can’t exactly hide his need with his cock leaking and his trembling legs giving away the desire that leaves every limb shaking. 

“Is this better?” Teddy looks at Harry over his shoulder. “For, um. More?”

“God, Teddy.” Harry sounds awestruck, which is stupid because Teddy has freckles on his bum and a spot on his lower back that’s been annoying him all day. His bum is probably pasty white in comparison to the rest of his body, still tanned from the Californian summer sun. If he looks ridiculous though, Harry doesn’t seem to think so. Instead he parts the cheeks of Teddy’s backside and runs his tongue over Teddy’s slick hole, the whisper of a cleaning charm travelling over Teddy’s skin and leaving goosebumps in its wake. 

It’s so filthy. So _brilliant_ it makes Teddy quiver as he holds himself up as best he can. Teddy’s shivery response causes Harry to snap, and he really gets to work. The stubble on his cheeks and chin is rough against Teddy’s skin, his tongue deft and sure as he strokes it over Teddy, dipping inside him. His firm grasp on Teddy’s backside keeps him in place and all coherent thought leaves Teddy’s brain. His gasps and cries fall from his lips without warning, as Harry’s tongue becomes one finger, then two, pushing inside Teddy and dragging back against a spot that makes Teddy’s whole body burn with desire. 

“Fuck me,” Teddy begs, even as he’s not sure he’s ready for it. “Fuck me, fuck me.”

“Love.” Harry’s voice is rough and jagged, his fingers working inside Teddy. His lips brush the base of Teddy’s spine, the curve of his buttocks, his tongue sliding over the perspiration gathering in the small of Teddy’s back. “I already am.”

“Oh _god, oh god, oh god_.” Teddy swallows back the wave of filthy things he wants to say to Harry, keeping his legs spread and his arse presented to every delicious stroke of Harry’s fingers. His cock is so sensitive, so hard, and he’s desperate to be touched as Harry pushes his fingers deeper inside Teddy. It doesn’t feel so scary, now. Being full feels bloody _brilliant_ and Teddy wants more. He wants to feel the full stretch of Harry inside him. He rolls back against Harry’s hand, a grunt falling from his parted lips as Harry pushes, twists and slides slowly back, pushing in hard again as Teddy thrusts back against his hand. He doesn’t think he’s ever going to be able to look at Harry holding a tennis racket again without thinking of the brilliant, filthy things Harry’s sure fingers are capable of doing to him.

His climax builds quickly and burns through him with white-hot need as Harry fucks him through it, sliding his fingers from Teddy and leaving him disappointingly empty as his body clenches in the aftermath. 

“So fucking lovely.” Harry’s voice is rough with desire, his lips damp and feverish on Teddy’s back. He urges Teddy’s legs close together and with the aid of more lubricant slips in between Teddy’s shaking thighs, his cock sliding between them as he uses Teddy’s body to bring himself to climax. 

Sticky and thoroughly sated, Teddy finally drops onto the bed and rolls onto his back, reaching blindly for Harry and capturing his lips in a hard, desperate kiss. 

They clutch onto one another as the magic climbs and spirals around them, bathing the room in light.

*

“Can we do that again?” Teddy asks, sleepily. They’ve both freshened up with quick cleaning charms and the newly opened window brings a light, cool breeze into the room.

“Gladly,” Harry replies. He stretches out an arm, and Teddy settles against his chest listening to him breathe. “You liked it, then?”

“_Mmm_.” Teddy wriggles closer to Harry, stilling at the pattering of water against glass. “It sounds like rain.”

“Hopefully it might cool things down.” Harry holds Teddy tighter, despite his complaints about the warmth.

“I never meant to make you feel ashamed,” Harry continues, a note of concern in his quiet words. “I’m not ashamed of being gay. I was, for a while. I was confused, I didn’t understand why I couldn’t make things work that everybody else seemed to find so good, so easy. It’s been a very long time since I felt like that.”

“Do I make you ashamed?” Teddy closes his eyes, holding his breath as he waits for the answer. _Please say no. Please, please say no_.

“Of course not.” Harry sounds as though he’s smiling that wry smile he sometimes gives Teddy when he’s feeling particularly sheepish. “Although I’m not sure I’ve been a very good godfather to you in more ways than one.”

Teddy’s chest tightens and he opens his eyes. He runs his fingers down Harry’s chest, brushing over the wiry hair and moving low enough that Harry’s breath catches in his throat. 

Teddy blinks at Harry. “When I was younger, I knew I didn’t want to live in a world without you in it. I was so scared something would happen to you when you were off fighting monsters.”

“Not really _monsters_.”

“They were in my head. Big ones, with lots of teeth.” Teddy grins at Harry, before sobering. “It was always enough, just knowing you were out there. Living. I reckon if anybody deserves to live a good life, it’s you. Don’t fuck it up because you think you’re doing the right thing. It’ll just make everyone miserable.”

Harry’s throat works, then he nods. He brushes his thumb to Teddy’s cheek, his expression warmer than all the summers hottest days. “You’re very wise.”

“Of course I am. I’m a proprietor now.” Teddy lies back on Harry’s chest, closing his eyes again. “I’m not ashamed,” he says at last. “I never have been. It’s just the way of things, isn’t it? Like being born a Metamorphmagi or being destined to fight You-Know-Who. We don’t choose it.”

“No,” Harry agrees. He nuzzles into Teddy’s hair, breathing him. “But if I could, I wouldn’t choose anything else.”

“Me neither.” Teddy yawns again. “What do you want to do tomorrow?”

“Tennis?” Harry sounds hopeful.

“Yeah.” Teddy nods against Harry’s chest. “I think the winner should get a prize.”

Harry snorts. He hasn’t won a match yet. “You do, do you?”

“Definitely.” Teddy smiles against Harry’s skin, pressing his lips against the place where his heart beats. _I’ve already got the best prize I could ask for,_ he thinks. _Game, set and match_. “The loser plays the next match with their shirt off.”

“Well, I’ll have to make sure I win, in that case.” Harry tugs lightly at Teddy’s hair, nudging him up for a slow kiss. 

It’s perfect, warm and firm. The kind of kiss that doesn’t hurry to get anywhere. The sort that suggests there could be a hundred more tomorrows. Teddy slips his hand lower down Harry’s body, stroking Harry’s gorgeous prick slowly as it thickens in his hand.

“Advantage, Teddy,” he murmurs.

Harry pushes Teddy back on the bed with a low growl and kisses him so thoroughly, Teddy suspects he may have already lost his upper hand.

Teddy supposes this way, they both win.

**Author's Note:**

> come and say hi on [tumblr](https://writcraft.tumblr.com/)


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